


Puppet Strings

by mooseling



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: M/M, Sub Megatron, Tongue Fucking, beast on mecha experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooseling/pseuds/mooseling
Summary: Believing he's fallen prey to a virus engineered by the Maximals which brings out desires he strives to suppress, Megatron lures Optimus Primal out of his base in hopes for an antidote. Having bitten off more than he can chew, Primal offers Megatron his own idea of a remedy, knowing it may only lead to dire consequences for the Beast Wars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Aaahhh this is my first attempt at writing a multi-chapter fic in years, so we'll see how this goes. I recently finished watching Beast Wars for the third time through a few days ago and I mean. Porn is always a thing that should happen, right?

It wasn’t what he expected. Megatron was in his beast form, waiting for him, _alone_. **  
**

The unfamiliarity caused Primal’s fur to bristle as he maximized, the threadlike fibers suspended between the instability of the environment and a static-like charge of electricity which seemed to radiate from his very enemy. What sort of twisted _lust_ for carnality Megatron wished to satisfy was beyond him, but even the carnivorous beast that was his adversary looked particularly alluring as the moonlight dripped down upon his feathery frame, emanating a ferocity like blood trickling from an open wound.

Crimson gaze bled along the cosmic light, and Optimus followed its radiance downwards until it ebbed away into darkness. But in the shadows Megatron’s body cast upon the ground, built from earth and various organic vegetation--was that a nest?

At once, his optics flickered upwards, meeting the dangerous flash of amusement which flared across his enemy’s eyes. 

“Your first mistake Primal: coming here alone.”

Leaves rustled suddenly, and sensing an ambush, the Maximal commander reached for his gun, but nothing emerged from the darkness around them, it was only the breeze. Battle protocols singed across his circuitry as the breeze ruffled his fur, and as it picked up, his olfactory sensors registered the scent of something far more alarming than any meticulously calculated surprise attack. 

Its potency stirred a licentious beastly desire within him, titillating mechanisms and protocols Optimus had all but abandoned. With a low growl, he swallowed back the lubricants which suddenly filled his intake, attempting to ignore a sudden ache at the pit of his abdomen. If Megatron was out for blood, he certainly wouldn’t allow him the taste.

“Your second: attempting to extract revenge against me.”

“I didn’t come out here to play games, Megatron. Just what are you going on about now?”

“You recall that virus I infected you with not so long ago? The one which was supposed to render you a coward and force you to surrender to me out of fear, but due to Scorponok’s incompetence, it made you aggressive instead--certainly an attractive trait, but not the one I was looking for, no.”

Digits brushed over his pistol grip as Megatron began to approach. There was an inexplicable hunger in his eyes, a predatorial appetite for delicately exposed mesh. For the briefest of moments, he considered how it might feel to indulge such an appetite, to test the sharpness of Megatron’s teeth against his frame, or to even ensnare a beast, pinning him down forcibly within his own nest. Quickly, Optimus looked away from his gaze, countering, “Your point?”

The Predacon remained silent as he drew near, slowly circling the Maximal as a predator might circle its prey before at last going in for the kill. But Megatron hunted him once before, making a grand display of a most dangerous game in which he involved every Maximal and every Predacon. Whatever this was, it was personal, a show of prowess intended only for him. And though he spewed accusations, his mannerisms, his scent--both indicated something else.

Realization stung Primal then. “You think we infected you with a virus, don’t you?” he accused.

“Ah, clever as always, Optimus. Now the antidote if you will, please.”

The Maximal shook his helm. It was unsurprising Megatron was fully aware that something was awry with his systems and that he was blaming his crew for his troubles once more. “Sorry to disappoint, but if there is an antidote, we don’t have it. We didn’t engineer a virus. You should know by now that we Maximals are not like you. We will stop you without having to resort to such methods. If you’re sick, it’s not any of my concern.”

“ _Wrong answer._ ”

One moment, Megatron was snarling like some feral beast, the next, Primal was pinned upon his back struggling to keep the tyrannosaurus rex’s jaws clamped shut as the Predacon clawed into him, willing to tear him apart. “Offline me and you won’t--”

He cried out as Megatron whipped his tail around, striking him in the side. The action of it, however, was a costly mistake. Almost immediately, a powerful musk penetrated the night air, wafting against Primal’s olfactory sensors. Optimus shuddered despite himself, suddenly aware that the throbbing he was experiencing wasn’t from the pain in his side but from a twinge between his legs. 

Gritting his teeth, the Maximal leader strained beneath the weight of his enemy. He growled, “Fighting won’t solve anything, though I might offer a suggestion.” Enticed by his arousal, Optimus slid a pede down the curve of the beast’s belly, stopping only when he reached the slickened, weeping opening, tempting the heat he found there.

Megatron reacted with his whole body, going rigid as his eyes widened, snarling at the realization of what Primal just did before tearing his maw free of the Maximal’s grip and shoving his adversary away. With a groan, Optimus sat up, watching as the Predacon loomed over him. 

Wiping some of the dirt from his face, Primal tried to push through the haze of illicit desire and consider his next move, but his psyche only entertained thoughts of Megatron face down, tail up, wet and dripping, waiting to be stretched by none other than him. 

A ragged breath stuttered from his intake as he shook his helm. Primal knew Megatron would do everything in his power to keep him from leaving until he had what he presumed to be an antidote--that he could live with. What he couldn’t tolerate was the misplaced sense of guilt he felt at the idea of leaving Megatron behind like this, that even though he was his enemy and stronger than most, even he could be vulnerable, particularly like this. And what he hated most: knowing this was exactly what Megatron wanted, for him to be as foaming mad with lust as he was, desiring nothing more than to make a feral and forbidden claim.

His Maximals could never know of this, but it was their leader who would return to them reeking of their enemy’s prurient stench. 

“Weapons systems offline. Divert power to energon dampeners.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Megatron’s throat as Primal slowly climbed to his pedes, watching as the flesh of the carnivorous beast folded and tore away, unmasking the Predacon leader’s standard form. “Before you can even think it, know that this isn’t any sort of punishment, Megatron,” Optimus warned, feeling as the rerouted power energized his dampeners. The energon was a bit more stable in this sector, granting him plenty of time to satiate both their animalish instincts. 

“You aren’t wrong in thinking that I simply couldn’t stand how the virus you had implemented in me took the one emotion I suppress most and brought it out of me tenfold. But know this: the violence you forced my team and me to endure at the hands of your virus will never equal how miserable you feel now. Whatever it is that’s being forced out of you, you could have taken care of it yourself or let one of your Predacons discreetly service you,” Primal remained defiant in the face of his enemy, “But you built a nest far outside the confines of your base and lured me here. And after I arrived, you’ve strutted around, trying to display your prowess to me. Maybe if you studied the creatures of this planet a little more closely, Megatron, you’d realize you have an attraction and not a virus.” 

Deadly cerise optics narrowed to slits and Optimus listened as a malevolent growl resounded from deep within the Predacon’s chassis. “Now, you have two options. Either you get out of here before we both engage in something we’ll regret, or you shut down your weapons systems and divert power to your energon dampeners so we can finish this.”

“Megatrons do not run, Primal, they _conquer_.”

“So be it, then.”

Tossing his pistols aside, the Maximal lunged, ignoring the momentary pain as he slammed his full weight against his larger foe, forcing Megatron to the ground. Fumbling, he attempted to pin the struggling menace beneath him, snarling loudly as the Predacon grabbed a fistful of fur, yanking it harshly. Desperate to maintain some sort of control, Primal thrust his pelvis mercilessly into Megatron’s own, grinding roughly against his heated panels. “That’s better,” he breathed as Megatron shuddered despite himself, taking the opportunity to tempt his fangs against the Predacon’s neck cabling. 

He cried out as Megatron suddenly turned, sinking his own teeth into his neck and biting down hard. But the predator didn’t relent, and Optimus’ optics flickered as digits groped harshly downwards upon his frame before sinking ruthlessly between his armor platelets, triggering his panels open. “Ngh-no,” he stammered as Megatron flipped him onto his back, pinning him down instead.

“No?” he questioned, causing Optimus to squirm as he tempted a digit much too slowly along the underside of his spike. “Well, which is it, Primal? No as in stop or no as in what I’m doing to you now just isn’t fair? You better decide quickly.”

Digits scraped along the ground for some sort of purchase as Megatron suddenly stood and took him by the ankle, dragging him in the direction of the nest. He growled, attempting to shake free of the renegade’s grasp, but the Predacon only gripped harder before finally tossing him into the nest, pinning him down once more. “You’re free to do your worst, Megatron,” the Maximal taunted, “You were dripping at the thought of me long before I got here; I’ll try not to be too disappointed when you only last a pump or two.”

“You underestimate me, Primal. Your last mistake, yes. Now, it’s my turn. Weapons offline. Divert power to energon dampeners.”

Optics widened in horror as Megatron leveled his puppet hand with his exposed array. Strings of lubricants spindled from the tyrannosaurus head’s sharp teeth as Megatron manipulated its mouth to stretch open, thick glossa spilling forth. He shuddered violently as tip of the glossa tempted the outer folds of his valve, digits sinking into the nest as he struggled to find something to brace himself with. Megatron only laughed, taunting him, “I think it’s only right you’re left as wet as I am, don’t you?”

A groan punctured the night as Optimus tossed his helm back and peered upwards, mechanisms behind crimson lenses attempting to blink through the dizzying haze which clouded his vision as the glossa suddenly penetrated him, slithering in deep. Above him, he watched as the cosmos slowly blinked, his legs trembling as the glossa flicked and writhed within him. But even the magnificence of the heavens could not hold his attention as Optimus shifted his gaze to behold the look of wicked amusement his enemy held upon his face. For briefest of moments, he considered how Cybertronian and organic anatomy should have never been fated to mix. Then, he narrowed his gaze, glaring at the Predacon rogue.

It only seemed to incite Megatron further as he leaned down, slowly pumping the glossa in and out of the slickened valve. Optimus attempted to ignore how Megatron was breathing down upon him like something raging beast as he involuntarily moaned, deriving more pleasure than he cared to admit from the glossa’s peculiar and disturbing onslaught against his innermost sensors, the appendage shoved so deep it felt like he could feel it in his fuel tanks. It disgusted him more than it pleasured him, but deep down, he knew that was Megatron’s intention. 

The Predacon growled possessively over him, cycling hot air over his frame. Primal watched as Megatron seemed to experience his own euphoric high, mumbling, “You taste good, yes.”

“You mean you can...gah,” he attempted to say as a breath stifled in his intake, “Actually, never mind.”

Then, to the Maximal leader’s surprise, Megatron let his guard down completely, closing the distance between them as he ensnared his lips in a kiss. Briefly, Optimus entertained it, allowing tooth and glossa to gnash together. But while Megatron was distracted, the Maximal reached down, slipping his servo into the beast’s mouth where he took hold of the glossa and pulled it from his valve, squeezing it harshly. He listened as the Predacon hissed in surprise before warning, “Bite down and not only will your puppet hand be without a glossa, but your beast form will be without a head.”

At the disadvantage, Megatron growled, but relented, and Optimus saw fit to once more send the Predacon leader sprawling upon his back where he belonged. This time, he triggered open the aspiring warlord’s paneling, at last releasing the beast’s glossa. “You will never do that to me again,” he stated as he hoisted the Predacon’s hips up, aligning them with his. “You’ll be lucky if I let you walk back to your base without a limp.”

But Primal paused when he noticed a flicker of panic pass across the Predacon’s optics. He felt as Megatron’s frame tensed and watched as he gripped the bottom of the nest tightly, as if bracing himself for a painful blow. Optimus sighed, softening his voice, “You’ve never done this before, have you? And that’s why you didn’t want one of your Predacons to help you, but your rival--”

“Will keep _silent_ ,” Megatron interrupted, “Predacons like to gloat. That, and my minions have a habit of disappointing me. You, Optimus, never have.”

“But why go through all this?”

“ _This_ is not normal. I’ve never been compelled to engage in interface until I acquired this beast mode and laid optics on you.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Primal’s mouth. “Should I feel flattered?” he asked as he leaned forward, lifting his arm to lightly trace his digits within the outer folds of Megatron’s dripping valve.

“Feel whatever you want to; this is the only opportunity you will ever have to claim me,” he rumbled as he slowly relaxed, enjoying the gentle ministrations. 

“Then I guess I better make it count,” he considered as he slipped a digit within the slickened valve, stroking the node at the apex with his thumb as he slowly worked to stretch the Predacon, watching his face carefully.

Cerise optics dimmed and Primal felt his spike throb as he watched Megatron sigh at the much needed attention, unknowingly spreading his thighs a bit more to allow for better access. It was then he slipped in another digit and felt as greedy calipers clenched around them. Slowly, he pumped his digits through the wet tightness as lubricants trickled down his servo, dripping from his wrist. As his enemy relaxed further, he scissored his digits to stretch him as much as he could, and a chill shivered up his back strut as Megatron groaned.

“Enough teasing, Primal. Take your claim and get it over with.”

Once more, Optimus aligned his hips with that of his enemy. Collecting some of the lubricants on his spike, he pressed the head to the opening before pressing in and sheathing himself to the hilt, breaking the seal quickly. “Easy,” he breathed as he remained still, watching as Megatron’s optics went offline and he grit his teeth at the pain. 

Megatron rumbled as his optics flickered back online and Optimus groaned his satisfaction as the Predacon’s calipers gradually adjusted to the sudden stretch, clenching around the intrusion and attempting to pull it in further. “Move,” the Predacon grunted.

With a possessive growl, Primal obliged, slowly pulling back only to slam back into him. He listened as Megatron groaned and growled beneath him, frame trembling with pleasure as he built a steady, hard rhythm. 

“Curse you, Primal…” he rumbled as the ridges of the Maximal’s spike met him node for node.

Optimus grunted as Megatron clenched defiantly around him and he countered by quickening the pace, thrusting into him harder. As pleasure threatened to consume both of them, Primal couldn’t consider how this night might affect the future of the Beast Wars. Megatron already spoke of it as a singular occurrence, but the Maximal had a feeling that such would not be the case. 

Spike sank again into the well-lubricated folds as the current of their charges seemed to bounce between them. He only hoped Tigatron wasn’t nearby to hear their unrestrained beastly and feral cries and unintentionally witness as Primal made his claim upon Megatron, knowing he would be the only one ever granted the right.

Beneath the blinking cosmos and two moons of this planet, Optimus brought Megatron to ecstasy twice, each time watching as his spinal strut arched from euphoric rapture and currents of static laced over his convulsing frame. No one else would ever see Megatron so vulnerable, so seemingly innocent for only these rarest moments. It was on the throes of the Predacon’s last overload that Optimus succumbed to his, sheathing his spike deep within the valve as the calipers continued to ripple around him, burying his essence well-within his adversary.

As the last jolts of pleasure faded from his frame, the Maximal leader pulled away, sheathing his spike and closing his panels. Glancing down, he watched as a mix of his fluids and Megatron’s lubricants oozed from the Predacon’s still exposed valve, swallowing hard as lubricants suddenly filled his intake at the idea of tempting a taste. But the predator seemed to know he was staring and closed his panels, instead pulling the prey on top of him and into a kiss.

Optimus sighed into its gentility as he allowed Megatron to hold him tightly. Perhaps it was the only time in his life the Predacon had ever known such tenderness, but Optimus knew he was a fool if he was to believe a moment such as this would last.

Before he wanted to, Primal pulled away. “If your charge is satiated, I need to get going. My energon dampeners are close to maxing out and the others will start to wonder what’s keeping me.”

Megatron seemed all too amused as he sat up, observing his enemy, “Your Maximals will smell me on you. They’ll know what we’ve done.”

“There’s a river or two on the way back. I’ll take a quick dip. They won’t know anything.”

“Other than you’re soaking wet and stinking,” the Predacon quipped.

Primal stood, feeling Megatron’s optics on him. “Is this your way of asking me to stay?”

“It was a lot of work building this nest, yes,” he stated, patting the empty space beside him. 

He shook his head, turning away. “No, Megatron. We’ve already blurred enough lines for tonight. You got what you came for. I’ll see you on the battlefield.”

Before the Predacon could say anything else, Optimus engaged his jets and took off into the night. Even though Megatron was taken care of, it didn’t feel anymore right leaving him behind, alone. Frustrated, Primal shook his head. These feelings would pass. The regret would lessen.

He only hoped he could trust Megatron to keep his mouth shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback to my sin is always welcome!


End file.
